


One Dance

by Bryony (REBB)



Series: A Moment of Madness [2]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 12:57:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/REBB/pseuds/Bryony
Summary: Sally thought it would be fun to get Wufei drunk. She was wrong.





	One Dance

**Author's Note:**

> If you read 'Aurora Borealis' you'll recognize the conceit and the repeated bit of dialogue at the end, but the fics are otherwise unrelated and you don't need to read one to read the other. Not that it would take you long. They are both very short haha.

Wufei was drunk, and it was all her fault. Sally had insisted that he attend this evening's reception, then further insisted that he should loosen up, and _then_ gone on to ply him with enough alcohol to intoxicate a rhinoceros. She'd forgotten momentarily that Wufei was four years her junior and thus had four fewer years of piss ups under his belt than she did. When it had become clear just how shit-faced her partner was she'd felt too guilty to abandon him, and had been trapped at this table for the last forty-five minutes as he slurringly lectured her on quote-unquote "interesting" tidbits of history -- most of which she couldn't help but notice were thinly-veiled insults directed at the heritage of politicians present at the evening's function. Apparently -- who knew? -- the Cinq Kingdom's name was in fact originally nothing more than a derogatory joke from when the French Fifth Republic fell and the country schismed, which somehow stuck.

At any other time, Sally might have actually enjoyed the (admittedly one-sided) conversation, but she was _supposed_ to be off duty and this was _supposed_ to be a party. She slumped half asleep over her fist, halfheartedly sucking up white wine through a straw, waiting for the misery to end.

She realized suddenly that Wufei had stopped talking and blinked herself back to alertness, looking to see what had caused him to shut up and if anything was required of her. He didn't look like he was about to be sick, but his head was wobbling slightly back and forth on his neck as he stared out across the room.

"Are you a lesbian?" he asked abruptly.

Sally choked on her wine. Grabbing a napkin, she wiped at her mouth, not bothering to cover her surprise as she sputtered. "What on earth makes you ask that?" she asked once she'd recovered.

He shrugged. "I've never seen you with any men."

"You've never seen me with any women, either," she pointed out, letting the question hang for a while before answering. "No. I'm not gay. Just single."

"Why?"

"…Why am I single?"

"You're attractive enough; you should be able to find a man willing to have you."

Sally breathed through the blithe offensiveness, telling herself it was meant kindly. Her voice was calm when she replied. "Right now I'm simply happy being on my own."

"Oh." Wufei nodded and swallowed. When he next spoke his voice was oddly hesitant. "Sally… Have you ever been in love?"

"Well, yes," she admitted, "once. Have you?"

Wufei shook his head, still not looking at her. "No." He sounded morose.

Sally slumped down in her seat again, dismayed -- having exhausted his pedantic streak it seemed Wufei was turning into a depressed drunk. She sighed; she should have known. "Well I imagine there will be time enough in your life for that," she halfheartedly tried to comfort him. "You're still only eighteen."

"I was married," he confessed. "I didn't love her and she died."

Crap. Foot, meet mouth.

"…I'm sorry to hear that." She wasn't quite sure what to make of the confession, but her words at least were genuine this time; indeed, she only wished there was more that she could say. Wufei made a dismissive gesture, as if he could physically push her sympathy away from him.

"Tell me about when you were in love," he demanded.

Sally sighed again. Tonight was supposed to have been fun, and while she could handle trying to patch together Wufei's bumps and bruises with duct tape and chewing gum she didn't want to go picking at her own half-healed scabs. "Wufei, it's late; why don't I call you a taxi?"

"Did it end badly?" he pressed, turning to stare earnestly into her face. It was a look she found difficult to refuse. Damn these pilots and their effect on her; it was like they knew she would walk into hell for them. Thank God only Wufei was here to take advantage of the fact. She rolled her eyes at her own malleability, resigned herself to telling him whatever he wanted to know.

"After a fashion. We broke up, but we stayed close until he died. You met him, actually. Benji. Do you remember? From the resistance against Colonel Bundt? You bickered. He didn't like you very much at first."

Wufei's eyes had become hollow. "That day… I should have returned to Nataku sooner."

"No, Wufei. You did all you could. I'm very grateful to you, still." She smiled at him, tired and bleary-eyed, and gently squeezed his hand. He scowled at her and she stood. "Come on," she ordered, "up."

She would go back to her apartment soon and lie awake the rest of the night, remembering Benji and her old home village, the two inextricably tied together in her heart. She'd relive it all -- all of their arguments and all of their lovemaking. His protectiveness. His recklessness. His big heart and his pettiness. The bewildered outrage he'd felt when she decided to enlist in the Alliance to obtain her medical license. The warm welcome he'd given her when she'd come home again to fight against Colonel Bundt. His death. The aftermath. It was all waiting for her. And that was fine. She would welcome it all, in its time. But right now, she wanted time to enjoy the present. She wanted to have some damn fun before the night was over.

"Come on," she repeated impatiently, holding out her hands. " _up_."

"What are you doing?" Wufei eyed her hands suspiciously and didn't move.

"I'm ordering you to get up and share a dance with me."

"I don't _dance_ ," Wufei sneered, giving her hands a distasteful look.

"That's why it's an order and not a request." Sally smiled beatifically.

She could see the arguments passing over Wufei's face one by one, but in the end, he silently acquiesced, took reluctant hold of her hands and followed her onto the dance floor, his jaw set with displeasure. He held her stiffly at arms length, all his effort going into remaining upright and not stumbling. Sally grinned at the look of drunken concentration on his face. Despite his protests, Wufei was obviously trained passably well in ballroom dance.

There was something about Wufei, she realized, that reminded her of Benji in a way. The two were nothing alike, on the face of it. Growing up, Benji had been a goof, more like Duo Maxwell than anybody else, but he and Wufei nevertheless shared an almost uncanny ability to get under her skin.

Thinking that, she felt a surge of affection for her young partner; leaning in, she kissed him briefly and gently on the lips. The look on his face as she pulled away was one of such absurd shock, she couldn't help but laugh.

"What was that for?" Wufei demanded.

Still laughing, Sally shook her head. "Nothing," she assured him. "Just a moment of madness. It's passed now."

They kept dancing.


End file.
